Real or Not Real?
by BarnumOnTheBrain
Summary: The last line of Mockingjay captured me, and so this is what happened prior to that famous line. Katniss and Peeta come together for the first time, and Katniss finally realises how she has felt about him all along, in the house in which only he can bring her peace. M for lemonsss.


**So I'm quite new to the HG community, and still not extremely familiar with the characters, but I had to write this before I forgot. I'm so glad they get together; I had been rooting for them from the start. So here is what I saw happened before the very end of chapter 27 of**_** Mockingjay**_**. **

It wasn't a particularly special evening, not to Katniss, not to Peeta. It was late July, and the factory they were building for the medicines was nearly completed. Katniss could see the large building even from the woods when she went hunting during the day. Peeta didn't go with her when she hunted; he never understood the woods, the rhythm of the leaves and heartbeat of the animals like she did, and besides, he was too loud for her to catch anything anyway.

Her kill for the day was waiting on the dining room table of her house for Greasy Sae to come and collect it – Katniss had taken down her first deer in years – and the house was quiet. Katniss was pouring over the book she, Haymitch and Peeta had assembled, honouring those who died by the window, overlooking the five bushes that Peeta had planted in the days after returning to the District. After returning home. Peeta was perched on the edge of the sofa he had positioned to the side of her, an easel stood in front of him. His hands were moving quickly over the paper he had pinned carefully onto it, and he watched her face intently. Katniss didn't notice. She was too busy with the book.

As the last lights left the dark sky, Katniss looked out of the window. A faint glow was coming from Haymitch's house and she sighed. "I'd better go over there and check on him."

"Want me to come with you?" he asked. He knew that even now, Katniss didn't like being far from him.

"I'm sure I'll be fine a few minutes away from you," she replied with the hint of a smile, and left the room. Peeta heard the front door open and felt a warm breeze drift into the room. She'd left the door open – evidently this would not be a long trip. He leaned back into the sofa and drank in his evening's work. On the paper pinned in front of him was an image of Katniss. He had drawn her carefully with lead, capturing how peaceful she looked as she sorted through her book. Memories – or rather, implanted thoughts – left from his time with the Capitol during the war still threatened to take him off-guard, but now he knew better than to believe them. He still saw things, things that Katniss supposedly had done, but the shining edges of the thoughts meant he could control them, and with one quick look at the real Katniss, the one who was always near him with her long, brown braid, he knew he could resist them. And he loved her. Of that much, he was sure. Despite all the Capitol's tampering, he never really lost the ability, the willingness to love her, and now that they were back home, with everything behind them, he could embrace it once more. And slowly but surely, he began to wonder if she loved him at last. The evidence suggested that she might; not a night had gone by that he had not slept in her bed, cradled her as she cried or screamed, and the only time during the day that they were not together was when she hunted. That was mere hours that they spent apart. How could she spent so long with him and not love him? She was one to tire quickly of the company of someone that she did not like, and he knew that she would never spent this much time with Gale, even before the war.

When she returned in less than five minutes, he let out a contented sigh. She stood in the doorway, taking off her boots, as she always had when her mother ran the house, and straightened up. A lock of hair rested by her cheek, and she brushed it away impatiently.

"Don't," Peeta said softly through the doorway.

"Don't what?" she replied curiously, walking towards him. She shut the door behind her, leaving Buttercup glaring at her as she passed his empty food bowl. _Serves you right_, she thought, _eating all your dinner at once_.

"Don't brush your hair away. I like it like that." Peeta held out his hand towards her and she took it. It was warm and strong. His thumb slowly caressed the side of her finger as he guided her towards him. She lowered herself onto the sofa beside his legs and rested her head on his shoulder, seeing for the first time his drawing.

He watched their fingers begin to untwine and stroke each other's hand.

"Peeta, is that me?" she asked, surprised. She had seen his other drawings and sketches of Haymitch hollering for drink, Greasy Sae over the kitchen sink, her granddaughter playing with Buttercup, but never one of her. She leant forwards and touched the paper, tracing the exact angle of her plait, the precise length of her fingers and soft curve of her lips. It must have taken him hours, but she had hardly given him any notice.

"Well, it's not going to be Haymitch now, is it?" he chuckled quietly. "Do you like it?"

"I'm…" she fumbled for words. She had never been good with words; that was always his job. "You made me look beautiful."

"I didn't do anything of the sort. I just drew you as you are," he insisted. "And you are beautiful."

Katniss felt a blush in her cheeks, and tried to pull away slightly, but he held her steady. "Don't leave," he said softly. How could she? Of course she couldn't leave him now, and she slumped back into the sofa again, just hoping that he would stop showering her with compliments.

"When will you see, Katniss, how beautiful you are?"

"I don't know. Maybe I need a special mirror or something," she mumbled. She took hold of his hand again, and opened it, facing his palm upwards. Her fingers began tracing light patterns across his soft skin, and he shuddered.

"You're tickling me," he said after a moment, a smile playing on his lips. She laughed briefly, quietly, and looked at him. Their faces were inches apart. She felt herself tense up. Neither of them had tried to push the other – neither of them knew if the other would let them anymore. His hand closed over hers, his blue eyes never leaving her grey ones and he pulled her slowly to him. Their lips met after months, maybe years, apart, and instantly, Katniss felt at home at last.

He pulled her carefully onto his lap, her legs settling either side of him and pulled at the end of her braid. The tie came loose, and as her lips parted his, his hands worked quickly to unravel it. His tongue met hers, and she felt the hunger she had felt in the arena on the beach deep inside of her once more. One of Peeta's hands wove into her hair, the other slowly rubbing one of her thighs as her own hands roamed his hair, his neck, down to his waist and pulling him even closer up to her. Through his shirt, Katniss could feel the ridges of scars left from battle on his back. The thought made her want him even more – she wanted his pain, his torture, to embrace it and heal him. Without her even realising, her hips began to move against his, and she felt something press into her. This drove her forwards carelessly. He remained as guarded as he could as she worked quickly to unbutton his shirt, her lips, her warm tongue moving seamlessly with his own. She tasted like the woods.

She pulled away from him enough to drink him in as he rested underneath her, his shirt open. She had seen him without a shirt before, but never like this. His skin was lightly tinted by the sun, his muscles just visible. She bit her bottom lip, desire mounting inside of her. His eyes regarded her carefully, but when he saw no sign of reluctance or fear, he pulled her back gently to him. Holding her tightly to him, he turned over on the sofa until she was on her back and he hovered above her. She smiled, suddenly shy, and hesitated for a moment.

"What is it?" he asked very quietly, not wanting to scare her, but feeling his own need for her in the pit of his stomach.

"It's just… I've never done this before," she said nervously, avoiding his gaze. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Neither have I. But you could never disappoint me."

She looked up at him again, and saw the warmth in those familiar blue eyes. Her hands came to him, and pushed the shirt from his strong shoulders, discarding it on the floor beside them. He dipped his head towards her and kissed her deeply, allowing his tongue to stroke her lips carefully, press against hers, and then pulled away again. With one hand holding him steady above her, the other came to her shirt, and he flicked the poppers open with ease. She lifted herself up slightly, and it soon joined his on the floor. He looked at her bare torso, and let a single finger trace from her slender neck, down between her breasts and to her trousers. They were pushed down, and she made quick work of his. They looked at each other curiously for a moment, before the desire that had pushed them this far overcame them once more. Peeta's hand came in between her legs, and she left out a moan. She had never been touched like this, never even imagined what it would be like, until he touched her now. She didn't know how he knew, but all she knew was that she didn't want him to stop. His lips came down onto her jawline, kissing heavily along it and onto her neck, pausing here and there to suck her soft olive skin. His hand came away from her and she let out a cry of despair. He had stopped, why had he stopped? He needed to keep going.

"Katniss, I don't want to hurt you," Peeta whispered, shifting his position slightly, his breathing heavy with desire. "Tell me if I hurt you."

She nodded, her brow furrowed as she waited desperately for him to enter her. He pushed himself into her as slowly as he could, and felt her jolt slightly.

Trembling with the effort he was making to stop, his eyes met hers once more. They told him, after a moment, to keep going.

Slowly, so as not to hurt her again, Peeta moved inside of her, and she quickly caught on. His hand trailed up her body, rubbing and teasing her breasts, and she let moans escape her lips. Every thrust brought her closer, brought him closer, and she pulled his head down to meet her lips, locking him to her. Their lips, tongues and bodies moved together perfectly, passionately, as groans and whimpers came from them both. The tension was mounting inside of her, and she held him as close to her as she could, feeling the beads of sweat run off his back.

Peeta shifted himself slightly inside of her, and he buried further into her, sliding his palms up and down her legs, and moments later, he felt her release, her gasp of his name pushing him over the edge with her.

They stayed lying together like that for hours, just listening to one another breathing. His head rested on her shoulder and she began stroking his hair, as he stroked hers on so many restless nights when the nightmares threatened her sanity once again.

"I love you, Katniss," he murmured quietly after a few hours. Only the moonlight lit them now, as it shone into the room, giving their intertwined bodies a ghostly look. She kissed his hair, and considered that for a moment. She had known it all along, everyone had. But it wasn't until that moment that she had truly accepted it, embraced it, even. At last, it made sense to her. And so, when the next question came, she knew how to answer it.

"You love me. Real or not real?" he whispered, his fingers tracing her waist very lightly.

"Real."

And of course it was real. It had been real for a very long time now. It had just taken this for her to realise it, when, perhaps, he had known it all along too.

**I hope you enjoyed that, and any reviews would be very helpful for me indeed, especially as this is my very first piece of Hunger Games fanfiction.**


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